The Untold Tale of Margaret Dashwood
by rottenwriter83
Summary: What happened to the spitfire Margaret Dashwood?
1. Chapter 1

The Untold Tale of Margaret Dashwood

"And what's to become of you, Miss Dashwood?" The voice boomed from behind her and almost unseated her from her perch atop the boulder by the sheer force and volume of it. It belonged to Sir John Middleton of course, for no other man in her acquaintance would ask a question so boldly. He and his mother-in-law were always making statements and asking questions just outside of what society thought they ought. Margaret quite liked that about them, although it was a fact that quite irked both of her sisters and her mother. If it weren't for the fact that he smelled strongly of dried pork rinds, she would not mind his company at all.

For a moment Margaret said nothing and pondered his question whilst she let the last few flower petals flutter into the wind. Marianne and Colonel Brandon's carriage had left the churchyard over a quarter of an hour ago and she was due to help Eleanor and her mother tidy up the chapel. With a toss of her unkempt lochs she sent him a mischievous smile and said, "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, Sir John." And skipped off toward the church.

Sir John smiled after the child who was on the verge of being a child no longer. He thumped his walking stick atop her boulder and pondered the puzzle who was Margaret Dashwood. She was singular individual brought up perhaps a bit too wild. Her sisters had formal tutors while their father was alive and seeing to their wellbeing. And although she was obviously a voracious learner with a keen mind and a quick wit, she was never taught how to control it or guided to what she was "supposed" to learn. She had a ready knowledge and deep appreciation for exploration, engineering and even fencing. But Sir John had never seen her try needlepoint or painting as finished girls with encouraged to do. She climbed and ran more than his own sons did and rode her horse fearlessly.

Left on this course he knew she was in for a rough, if not impossible road ahead. And still, he hated to think what would happen to the wild spirit that blazed within her if she were taken in hand by governess or a school.


	2. Chapter 2

There wasn't much to do inside the chapel, a few stray ribbons and flower blossoms to sweep away and of course the candles had to be extinguished, but as the curate's new wife Eleanor felt she should be seen to be taking great pride in cleaning up, especially since it was her own sister's wedding. She watched Margaret move slowly through the candles in the windows, using moistened fingertips to extinguish the flames. She seemed to take great delight in watching the winding pillar of smoke rise toward the vaulted ceilings. Eleanor could only think of how blackened her fingertips would be and how she was sure to ruin yet another set of gloves. Margaret was always untidy. Hair always bouncing about in all directions as if it took as much pleasure escaping its confinements as she did. She always smudges of dirt and grass stains on her skirts and petticoats as sure as if she applied them as soon as she donned them each morning. Marianne used to tie ribbons in her hair or around her neck, as if simply attaching them to Margaret would somehow impress upon her a romantic sense of femininity. But Margaret simply used them to string seashells or tempt fairies into the garden. Once she used one to leash a particularly slimy toad she'd caught in a marsh. When Marianne threw a rather predictable tirade Margaret set the toad free in their living room and gave the ruined ribbon back to her sister, as if that should solved the whole problem. Marianne stopped giving Margaret ribbons after that.

There were qualities that Eleanor had often envied in Margaret. She was so free. Always confident, always bold and spirited. She wished she were a bit like that. Eleanor felt the tightening restraints of propriety and was too often influenced by them. Had she not learned that from Marianne? Marianne had once given her too much credit, while punishing herself. It was true that Eleanor believed in the providence of the Lord and so knew she and Edward were meant to be together. But she was shamed when she considered how strongly she'd relied on His providence. She'd followed every rule of propriety and it had turned out in her favor, but she shuddered to think how meekly she'd accepted her fate when she'd thought all hope was lost. She didn't have to worry about Margaret humbly accepting a fate she thought was unfair. Still, she wondered what kind of happiness a girl like Margaret could find in a world like this one.


End file.
